


Something Broken About This

by whalebone



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Robot/Human Relationships, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21694597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalebone/pseuds/whalebone
Summary: It's late, and Bodhi is acting strangely. K-2SO is worried.
Relationships: K-2SO & Bodhi Rook, K-2SO/Bodhi Rook
Comments: 12
Kudos: 67
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2019





	Something Broken About This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thestrongeststars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestrongeststars/gifts).



It was late at night – at least, _Home One_ was currently in the night-time portion of its simulated light cycle – and the ship was relatively quiet. Most of K-2SO’s fellow droids in the bay were powered down. He should have been charging, but he had been busy running simulations of a recent mission, all the better to impress upon Cassian that he should have listened to his analysis.

K-2SO was also worried. It was something he usually associated with Cassian: Cassian going into danger, without K-2 to help him; Cassian shrugging off serious injuries as unimportant; Cassian pushing himself to the limit, refusing to eat or sleep enough. It was one of the more familiar sensations K-2SO experienced where Cassian was concerned.

Except this time he was not worried about Cassian, but about Bodhi Rook. He was not sure why he had begun to worry about Bodhi at this precise moment. 

Ah. Footsteps. K-2 kept a data log of such things, so he could easily identify whether anyone approaching was a known ally. Bodhi’s limping, slightly shuffling footsteps were distinctive. His sensors had picked them up, and begun the process of worrying.

Bodhi was up, out of bed, and wandering the base at night. K-2 ran through a series of possible reasons, the most likely of which was that Bodhi had been having a nightmare. K-2 did not really understand dreams or nightmares, though he grasped the basic concept. Cassian often needed distraction when he woke up from his own. Perhaps Bodhi would be the same. 

He made his way out of the droid bay to follow Bodhi’s footsteps. He was moving towards the hangar, which was not unusual, though as far as K-2 knew he did not usually visit the hangar in the middle of the night. Nor did he usually visit while carrying a kit bag.

K-2SO paused in the entrance to the hangar, and ran analysis. He did not have years of data on Bodhi the way he did for Cassian, but he had known the man for six months now. Enough time to build some rudimentary models for behaviour analysis, at least. 

Bodhi was carrying twenty-one percent more tension in his shoulders than usual; he was clenching and unclenching his organic hand, something he usually did when nervous; the kit bag was larger than one he might take on a mission, and seemed to be heavy. 

He was leaving.

Shock and sorrow flooded through K-2’s circuits, to his own surprise. He had never cared for an organic other than Cassian before, but the idea that Bodhi might take himself away was a distressing one. That he would do it without saying anything was even worse; they had, K-2 thought, become friends. 

If Bodhi left, they would not be able to be friends. K-2 would not be able to help him fix ships, or watch him beat everybody at sabacc, or make him smile and laugh. If Bodhi left, he would be in danger, and K-2 would not be able to help him. This was unacceptable.

“Bodhi.” He stepped forward into the bay, his feet clanging against the metal floor. Bodhi froze, the tension in his shoulders shooting to thirty-seven percent more than usual. He ducked his head, but did not turn around.

“Kay. Why are you following me?”

“I heard you.” He stepped forward again. “You are leaving.”

“I…” Bodhi ran his free hand over his face, still not looking at K-2. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. Should have guessed I’d never get away.”

“ _Why_ are you leaving? This is an illogical course of action.”

Bodhi did turn around then, his narrow face set. “No, it’s not. Don’t try and stop me.”

“I will try to stop you. Did you forget that you are wanted by the Empire?” Bodhi did have some trouble with his memory, thanks to Saw Gerrera. Perhaps it was more impaired than K-2 had ever realised. 

“Of course not,” Bodhi snapped, his shoulders hunching further. “I just – I can’t stay here, Kay. I’m sorry.”

“So you are going to steal a ship. And go where, exactly?”

Bodhi’s mouth twisted, and he looked away. He was a good liar, usually, but he had not even thought of a lie to tell. K-2’s worry was growing, a frantic energy coursing through his circuits. He could not let Bodhi leave. “I’ve not decided yet.” Bodhi said eventually. “The Outer Rim, probably. There’s places the Empire’s barely touched, where they wouldn’t find me—”

“You would not make it,” K-2 interrupted, his vocabulator too loud. “You cannot go alone.” He cycled through simulations, trying to find something that would make Bodhi stay. “You know too much about the rebellion. You know where we are. You cannot be caught.”

Bodhi looked at his boots. “I wouldn’t let them interrogate me,” he muttered. “I wouldn’t let it get that far.”

His meaning was obvious. It was not something K-2 was unfamiliar with; Cassian carried a poison pill with him on all missions, for just such an eventuality. K-2 had a built-in kill switch that would wipe his entire core should the Empire try to datamine him. “You do not need to do this,” he repeated. “Cassian will be hurt that you have left. So will Jyn Erso, and the Guardians.”

Bodhi shrugged. “Maybe. They’re better off without me, though.”

“ _I_ do not want you to go. And do not tell me that I will be better off, Bodhi Rook, because I know more about my own programming and responses than you do.”

Bodhi’s lips twitched. “I’ll miss you. You’ve been a – a good friend. One of the best.”

This was a very frustrating conversation. “This is not within your usual behaviour parameters.”

“Yeah?” There was a bitterly amused note in Bodhi’s voice. “Cutting and running sounds plenty like me.”

K-2 considered that, and dismissed it. “That is inaccurate. You have faced a great deal of danger, and been afraid, but you have not run away. You should not do so now.”

“I’m sorry.” Bodhi hitched the bag more securely onto his shoulder and turned away. “Thanks, though.”

Perhaps he should wake Cassian, or Jyn. She would definitely not let Bodhi leave. But by the time K-2 woke them, Bodhi would have had enough time to prep the shuttle and leave. No, he would have to stop Bodhi himself. And if Bodhi would not listen to reason, then he would stop him some other way. After all, what was the point of being a 2.1 metre tall security droid if you did not use it to your advantage occasionally? He strode around Bodhi to block his path, stepping close enough to be in his personal space, but not close enough as to potentially trigger a panic. Bodhi stopped dead.

“Kay.” His voice was heavy and exhausted. “Please don’t. I’ve made up my mind. I get to choose this.”

“Then help me understand why you are making this choice.” An idea suddenly occurred to him. “Help me to understand, and then I will let you go. Then I can explain it to Cassian.” Or maybe the new data would help him to persuade Bodhi otherwise.

Bodhi looked up at him, shifting his weight a little as though trying to decide. “Fine,” he said. “Fine.” He glanced around the hangar, mostly empty apart from a few mechanics, a small cluster of pilots and their astromechs, none of them close enough to pay any attention. “In the shuttle, yeah? I don’t want to stand around out here.”

“Very well.” He could definitely stop Bodhi from prepping the ship if he were on board as well. 

K-2 sat on the bench in the ship's small galley and waited. He could be extremely patient, where necessary; he often needed to wait for Cassian to be ready to talk about anything. Bodhi paced a little, clenching and unclenching his organic hand. Had he used to do the same with his other hand, K-2 wondered, and the ingrained habit broken by the prosthesis? Or was it simple coincidence? He doubted Bodhi would know. 

"I can't stay," Bodhi said eventually. He didn't look at K-2. "I'm no use here. I'm taking up space, and resources, and I don't – I can't—" He swallowed, a dry, clicking noise in his throat. "I've done terrible things, and I can't fix them. I can't help, not really, it would be better for everyone if I just… was out of the way, where I can't cause any problems."

This last part tumbled out of Bodhi in a rush. He hugged his arms around himself, jaw clenched, still not looking at K-2. In the light of the galley, K-2 could see the deep shadows beneath his eyes, the hollows of his cheeks. He had obviously not been sleeping. He swayed a little where he stood, hugging himself, looking supremely lost. K-2 was struck by the inexplicable urge to draw him closer, to put his own arms around him. Strong durasteel would hold him together better than his own skinny limbs.

“You are not causing problems,” K-2 said, rather confused by this declaration. “And you are not the only person in the rebellion who left the Empire.”

Bodhi’s arms tightened around his ribcage, the lines around his eyes deepening. “The only one who – who helped them build that… thing. Jedha, Alderaan…”

“You did not build it. The only reason it has been destroyed is because you brought Galen Erso’s message.” It was difficult to keep the frustration out of his tone. It sometimes worked with Cassian when he went into spirals of guilt, but Bodhi just flinched, looking as though he would like to disappear entirely. 

“One good thing doesn’t make up for it. I – I _chose_ to work for the Empire, Kay. I didn’t have to. I saw what they were doing to Jedha, and I chose anyway.”

“And then you chose to leave, no matter how dangerous it was. And you have helped the rebellion since then.”

Bodhi bit his lip. “Yesterday, I woke up with absolutely no memory of the last few months. I thought I was still in that… that place. With Saw Gerrera and…” He swallowed. “What if that keeps happening? What if it happens on a mission or something? I’m too much of a liability.”

“And if it happens when you’re out there, alone?” K-2 waved an arm, intended to encompass the Galaxy as a whole. “It is better for you to be here, with people who care about you. You do not have to go on missions. You are an able mechanic, and a pilot. The rebellion needs all the skills it can get.”

Bodhi was silent for a moment, still refusing to look at K-2. His shoulders were so taut they were practically touching his ears. He unfolded one arm and pressed his hand to his mouth, and K-2 realised that he was holding back tears. That was not entirely unsurprising; where Cassian wept rarely, and usually when he thought K-2 could not see him, Bodhi’s stress responses were different. K-2 was not sure if he would appreciate attention being brought to his response, but as with Cassian he could not ignore him. 

The galley was small, and not very well-stocked, but there was a clean rag on the narrow countertop. K-2 handed it to Bodhi, who gave a watery little laugh and took it. “Thanks. I’m sorry, I know I’m not making much sense.” He scrubbed his eyes on his sleeve, rather than the rag. “I never used to be like this. I don’t – really know who I am, any more.”

The need to comfort him was becoming stronger. When K-2 was sitting down they were a similar height, so he could easily reach out and put a hand on Bodhi’s shoulder. His sensors picked up on the extreme tension in his muscles, the rough fabric of his jacket, the warmth of him. He was not so warm as Cassian, and his shoulders were narrower. Bodhi looked a little surprised at the contact, but he did not pull away, and some of the tension seeped out of him. That was satisfying. 

“I understand,” K-2 told him, and Bodhi met his gaze for the first time. His eyes were reddened, a tear still on his cheek. 

“You do?” he said, and then seemed to catch himself. “Kriff, of course you do.” He fidgeted with the rag, twisting it around his fingers. “Humans aren’t really meant to be reprogrammed.”

“Nor was I,” K-2 pointed out, though he understood Bodhi’s point. Humans, frustratingly, did not have easily-read code, or clear algorithms, which made them extremely difficult to understand. They did not respond well to sudden behaviour modification. “Much of my behaviour and personality is considered a malfunction, at best.”

Bodhi frowned, and his hand came up to gently touch K-2’s wrist where his hand rested on his shoulder. “I don’t think it is.”

“Well, that makes two people. I should inform General Draven.” 

Bodhi did laugh, then, a little weakly. Warmth seemed to rise beneath K-2’s plating at the sight of Bodhi’s smile, even though it was not as broad as it could be. “Why do you stay?” he asked, curling his fingers tighter around K-2’s wrist joint. “With the rebellion, I mean. I could choose to leave, I could choose to stay… what about you?”

That was a complicated question with a complicated answer, and not one that K-2 found easy to articulate. Cassian had asked him, once, and K-2 could tell that his response had not satisfied Cassian’s curiosity. Or assuaged his guilt. Cassian had made a lot of very difficult choices in his life, but he had always chosen the rebellion. He was firm in his belief in that. 

Perhaps Bodhi could understand, where Cassian could not.

“I could leave, I think. I do not wish to.” He paused. Bodhi’s muscles were slightly less tense now, and he was watching K-2 with a spark of interest and sympathy in his dark eyes. K-2 was still holding his shoulder, and found that he did not want to let go just yet. “I am an Imperial droid. Those who are against the Empire would be afraid of me, and most likely try to permanently disable me. The Empire would want me datamined and reprogrammed. I do not find either outcome particularly pleasant.”

“No,” Bodhi agreed. His thumb was sweeping back and forth over the ring-joint of K2’s wrist. Even though there were no sensors there, it still sent a pleasant little thrill through his core. “But that’s why you don’t want to leave. It’s not why you want to stay.”

“If I stay, I can protect Cassian. I don't know if you've noticed, but he can be very reckless. I do not like the Empire. I do not remember much about being an Imperial droid, because they would wipe my memory. I was not able to make any choices, there.” 

“But are you choosing now? Or did – did Cassian programme you to want to stay? To protect him?”

“I… do not know. Protecting Cassian is my primary directive, and it is one I wrote myself. But did Cassian make me want to do that? I cannot tell. It felt like a choice, but I do not know what choices feel like to organics.”

Bodhi chewed on his lower lip. “I chose to join the Empire,” he said. He stepped closer to K-2 and rested his cybernetic hand on his shoulder. K-2 curled his own hand around Bodhi’s metal wrist, his sensors telling him how slender and breakable it was. Their mirrored pose was oddly pleasing. “I chose to leave, in the end, because of Galen. I would never have left if it wasn’t for him.” He took a shuddering breath, blinking hard. Bodhi had grieved for Galen Erso, K-2 knew, even though the man was more responsible than Bodhi could ever be for the Death Star. “I chose to go to – to Scarif, because of him. And Jyn. I had to try and make it right. But now… I don’t know. I’m here because it’s where I ended up afterwards. I’m not choosing, not any more, and a lot of the time I don’t remember what I’ve done or who I am, and I don’t know what I can _do_ now…”

His voice broke, more tears starting in his eyes. K-2’s processors were running hard, generating the same protective worry he felt when Cassian ran into danger, or pushed himself to the brink of collapse. He slid his hand from Bodhi’s shoulder to his jaw and brushed his thumb over his face, registering his warmth, the softness of his skin compared to the coarse hair of his beard, the way his breath shuddered a little at the touch. Bodhi’s hand came up over his: narrow, long-fingered, but still so small compared to his own. 

“I do not know if I am choosing to stay,” he said, trying to pitch his vocabulator as gently as possible. He did not know what the best approach would be, here; he needed to develop his understanding of Bodhi’s behavioural parameters. “But I know that it is what I want. I think I am choosing to stay for Cassian. And for others, now.” His thumb stroked along Bodhi’s cheekbone, with a tenderness that he had certainly never been programmed for. “I chose to go to Scarif, despite what I told Jyn. I chose to stay behind and hold off the Stormtroopers, because my simulations told me that it would help Cassian escape. Perhaps I was programmed to make those choices, but they still feel like me.”

“I don’t feel like me,” whispered Bodhi. He was leaning his head into K-2’s palm. 

“Nor did I, after Cassian reprogrammed me. I had to find out who I was. Humans are not meant to be reprogrammed, but you are also not meant to fly into space, or survive explosions, and yet you have done those things.” A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Bodhi’s mouth. “Perhaps you can learn who you are now.”

“Maybe.” He did not sound sure, his gaze dropping away again.

“It was easier, with Cassian to help me.” Bodhi looked up again. K-2’s glowing photoreceptors lit his face strangely. Slowly, his fingers curled around K-2’s palm where it rested against his jaw. Warmth and gentle pressure, a callous at the base of his thumb. “Bodhi. Do not leave.”

Bodhi seemed to crumple. “Kriff,” he whispered. “I thought I finally knew what I was doing. Damn you, Kay.”

K-2 gave in to the strange longing to have Bodhi closer. He tugged him forward, and Bodhi moved willingly, wrapping his arms around K-2’s shoulders. He felt fragile under K-2’s hands, all long, narrow bones and trembling muscles, and he folded in against K-2’s chest plate. K-2 ran his hand up and down Bodhi’s spine, feeling him begin to relax a little. When he slowly stroked his fingers through Bodhi’s long, unruly hair, Bodhi tightened his arms about K-2’s shoulders.

“Okay.” Bodhi’s voice was a little muffled. “Okay. I’ll stay.” He pulled back a little, his expression tentative, uncertain. “You’re right. I wouldn’t get far by myself.”

“You would not. And I would come after you.”

Bodhi sighed, leaning forward so his forehead rested against K-2’s. “Thanks for talking me down.”

“You’re very welcome.” K-2 was still stroking Bodhi’s hair. The soft strands slipping between his fingers generated some very pleasant feedback. Perhaps Bodhi would let him do it again, sometime. “If you feel the urge to run off into the stars again, I hope you’ll let me talk you out of it.”

That made Bodhi smile. A proper smile. K-2 stored the image away in his memory banks. “Will do,” he agreed. He sighed out, his breath warming K-2’s faceplate, and his shoulders slumped. “Guess I should get some sleep.”

“Yes, you should.” Reluctantly, K-2 let his hand fall from Bodhi’s hair. “I did not expect to spend so much time making sure humans get enough sleep.”

He picked up Bodhi’s kitbag and accompanied him back through the echoing corridors of _Home One_ to his quarters. Bodhi was clearly exhausted, but the tension in his shoulders had decreased by almost sixty-one percent, a fact that K-2 noted with some smugness. 

“I will see you tomorrow,” he told Bodhi firmly, dropping the kitbag at his feet. “One of the U-Wings has a malfunctioning hyperdrive.”

“Sure, we can take a look at that.” Bodhi hesitated in the open doorway, then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around K-2, leaning against his chest plate. There was a surge of joy and affection through K-2’s core, and he hugged Bodhi back. “See you tomorrow, Kay.” 

K-2 hovered in the empty corridor for longer than he should have done after Bodhi had shut the door, oddly reluctant to leave. Eventually he made himself go back to the droid bay so he could charge and power down for the night, but not before he carefully saved all of the new data he had on Bodhi Rook: the warmth of his skin, the roughness of his beard, the silk of his hair, the trust in his eyes. 

They were memory files he intended to go back to again.


End file.
